


Plunder and Wander

by littleweepingdalek



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, UNIT era, UNIT is now a notorious pirate ship, the Brigadier is now the Captain, the New Who references bleed through in some places
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 01:27:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14945030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleweepingdalek/pseuds/littleweepingdalek
Summary: Everyone knows the stories of UNIT. A pirate ship, sailing the Seas, pillaging and plundering and that sort. Its Captain? Stewart, his moustache known in more parts of the world than the name of the current King of England. Its crew? Probably just as devious, plotting evil schemes and.. saving the world from what exactly? With whom? These are the remembrances of its glory days, starting with marine expert Liz Shaw ending up on adventure's doorstep, and promptly falling deep into the hole in front of her.





	1. A Letter, a Captain, and a Sceptic

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So first things first, I binge-watched some Classic Who a while ago (*coughs* last December) and then stumbled across this post on tumblr http://evilqueenofgallifrey.tumblr.com/post/117763086145/galleia-a-unit-era-pirate-au-tho-the  
> I never expected to publish this, but this WIP is slowly getting out of hand and kind of long and I guess there can never be enough DW fanfic, especially for the older stuff

The Lady Josephine, nicknamed Princess at a tender age, was - as it came to be known in all of Tardis - a peculiar girl.

Over ten years ago, her family had ventured across the great ocean and her father had accepted the role of the new Governor of a relatively unimportant yet wealthy island embedded somewhere in the Caribbean Sea. To be fair, Josephine never cared too much about the geographical facts of her home and she wasn't too interested in what her private teachers would school her in either.

Jo, as was the nickname she gave herself, had different interests in mind. Ever since she left England with it's foggy streets and dingy alleyways, she found her mind preoccupied by the stuff of legends. Stories passed on and hushed across the gutter. Of men who were capable of bravery and wickedness alike. Rogue sailors that decimated the proud Navy's fleet, tearing them apart one by one, sending reverend vessels to the dreaded ground of the Sea. Who stored the booty, bathed in gold and wore the shiniest of golden smiles - for even their teeth had to look the part.

Once in a while, those men would come ashore. And were it not in the disgusting and most wretched ports, but instead hit the more nobler areas, only chaos and destruction would remain, as well as the sight of a ship's pitch-black sails against the horizon.

Such stories made Jo's heart pump loud with fear, but the more she read, the more she eavesdropped... the more inclined she felt. Excitement would replace her inital, rudimentary instincts.

What would it be like to live such a life? To answer to no rules but one's own?

They certainly did not feel the weight of chains society lowered upon them. Or the brutal force of iron bars locking them inside their prisons.

In short, Lady Jo was very, very frightened when one starlit night a foreign vessel, black as the most darkest of dreams, approached Port Tardis and changed her life forever.

She also felt so disastrously alive.

  
\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

A few days prior

One might not think so, but all miserable aspects of this one Earth can indeed be found in a single place, despite all accounts that say otherwise. Its name is known to every men that has stepped onto a wooden plank at least once in life.

A hoard of animals, brutes and evil spirits, culminating in an undignified spot of dirt on the Empire's charts. However, nothing was done to stop such development, the English made their best choice in not intervening at all, given that many a proper Englishman also paid a visit from time to time.

As a matter of fact, the problem was all handled under the general motto 'At least all‘s concentrated there. We dare pick at it and they scatter in all directions.' Force was used to prevent the outspread of such places, but it was decided that one could be tolerated. An enclave of crime and abhorrence in the midst of a world that was getting slowly but surely consumed by the Empire's lust for power. Sooner or later, even this scraggly spot would have no other choice than to accept this truth and surrender.

Its original name, by which the Empire once christened it, has long since been forgotten by the people that scurried in the streets. Mercilessly wiped out and pushed past. It owned a new, shining name.

And, to be fair, it had quite a ring to it.

Daemon's Run.

Maintained by the Silence, a band of rogues that made very sure the place was just the right mixture of order and chaos. Keeping things clean for the pirates and messy for outsiders, may they beware.

Where good men go to... Well, a real answer to that didn't exist. All it had to was rhyme with 'war', as that was the main motivation for coming here in the first place. Wars fought on ships or inside minds and homes.

 

Naturally, Liz scoffed as she regarded the sign, proudly proclaiming a more vulgar approach to the motto in scrawly writing. Whoever painted it surely had patted himself of the shoulder. An adequate greeting for any newcomer. The Sea had already done its work, wind and saltwater having visibly bleached the previously dark red into a more or less visible brown stain on wet wood.

She wasn't off her boat yet - whch happened to be the stinking schooner of a Dutch merchant- and already this place fulfilled all her expectations. Filthy, useless and not at all to her liking. And she wasn't picky.

Liz took a sniff, wiped her nose and drew the battered jacket tighter around her figure. She grabbed deep into her purse, her fingers clasping around a sack with a few golden coins. When the ship was ready for disembarging, she tipped her head at the Captain, tossed it into his outstretched hand a few metres away and walked off, now only inches apart from the direct insult to mankind that was this town.

Drunken folk - men and women alike, she even spotted children less than ten years lying facedown next to pigs - enjoyed the young night, danced rather crudely and sang in voices that could have made a siren claw her own ears out and Liz cringe.

After all years at Cambridge, though, she had gained enough practice in ignoring fools. Actually, she deserved a diploma singularly for that and having to endure all women-hating remarks that were made to her ever since she expressed her desire to pursue a career in sciences.

Liz Shaw was neither a pirate nor a noblewoman. Brought up in rather conventional English conditions, she had soon become very fond of knowledge at a young age, spying on her parents' highly educated friends and spending vacations reading books about various topics. Her interests would vary and her opponents would grow, chanting hymns against women that - dear lord in Heaven - would tarnish the great workings of men.

In the end, it annoyed her so much that when eventually she did receive a dubious, anonymous letter, stuffed to the brim with golden coins from different parts of the world and a single, bleached shred of paper, the name of one tavern scribbled onto it, Liz took her chance and left England with nothing but a few belongings in a bag. A cloak-and-dagger operation.

A lone woman, out in the field with nothing but a few remaining coins in her pockets and an address to a place that wasn't portrayed on any maps. Was she worried? Not in the least.  
She dug up the paper from her trousers. Dark, exquisite lines.

  
_"Black Archive Tavern_  
_Daemons Run"_

  
Nothing more. Nothing less.

It had not been a greater task to get to the latter. Everyone who was worth their salt knew of this place, Liz Shaw was no exception. The tavern, however.. In Cambridge, it had been impossible getting hold of a detailed map of Daemon's Run, as no such documentation existed. The only way to truly find a place was by asking or finding it yourself.

Liz let her gaze wander across the streets.

Enough taverns for an entire London, it seemed. All had different, fancy names, such as the "Stangmoor" or "Wenley Moor". Generally lots of "moor". Her favourite must have been the "Ambassador", at which sight she chuckled a little, as it reminded her of the other ship she noticed at the port. Ambassador of Death. Now that was something worth a pirate. She was looking forward to hearing of its undertakings. Although they would probably fail in doing its name justice.

Eventually, when Liz still had not located the damned bar, even after wandering around cluelessly for an hour, a man approached her.

"You alone out here, Missy?" he lulled, keeping a firm grasp on a flask. Liz tried to evade the confrontation. She really didn't want to make a scene.

"Not really," she said, shifting her arm a little, indicating to the knife attached to her belt and hoping this would scare him off.

Unfortunately, it didn't.

"A young Miss shouldn't be alone here at night, you know. Bad things might happen to her."

"It pains me to confess that our views differ."

"Unfortunate."

The man crept a bit closer. Liz could smell him. A weird mixture of sweat, the lack of bathwater and alcohol. Common in this place, it hung everywhere in the air, but a human being reeking so violently.. That was a new one.

She tried to shuffle back, but he edged even closer. Liz grabbed for her knife. "Mate," she threatened him, or tried to, "Take one more step."

The man grinned. "This is a cute one." He took another step.

And didn't live to see the repercussions it had, for the very next thing that went through his head was a bullet.

Liz jumped back. Eyes fixed on the cadaver. Wounds on both sides of the head, one where the bullet entered and one where it left, both neatly above the ears, nearly symmetrical. His blood was dripping through the cobblestones, with his eyes still opened.

She had never seen a dead body before, especially not one that was murdered right in front of her. She tugged at her clothing that suddenly made her feel too pressured, even though she had left the corsets in England.

It was an unknown voice that finally released her, taking her back to reality and away from her thoughts.

"This is a nasty folk out here, Miss." Her focus drifted to the other man, leaning against a stone pillar at the other side of the alley. Straightening, he put his gun back in its holster and considered her with a thin smile. Funnily, it wasn't the posture or the fact that he just took away her chance to kill a man herself that threw her even further aback.

The infamous moustache did the trick.

Had this been the first shock in those few minutes, Liz might as well have been paralyzed. Instead, she simply raised an eyebrow. Two negatives resulting in a plus.

"I am perfectly capable of handling scum like this myself, Captain."

The smile grew a fraction. He clasped his hands beneath his back. "Of course you can, never doubted that. But one might as well intervene, before the conflict drags on too long. Miss Shaw, I presume?"

"Doctor Shaw."

"Excuse me. Then may I ask whether or not I could accompany you to the Archive? It's a small walk down there." He held up a rather elegant cane (even sprinkled with a few diamonds on the top, modelled after a wild cat, the real deal for any nobleman or pirate) and pointed to another street, filled with colourful lanterns and roaring laughter. And jolly music.

No one around them seemed to mind the lifeless body, just as the gunshot hadn't bothered anyone except Liz.

Her new acquaintance whistled loudly. It was a miracle that he could be heard in all this noise. "Play a tune in memory of this man here!" he bellowed.

It took a moment. Then drums echoed across the streets, accompanied by singing that was passable yet not something to marvel at.

The Drunken Sailor.

Liz couldn't help but smile, even though she disguised it as faint as possible. Sure, the humour was of macabre sort, but still.. it warmed her up, as did the following suggestion. And just the perfect indicator of what kind of men she was in league with here, at the most wretched point of their world.

Oh, what trouble she'd get into. It was almost like she could smell it, creeping up from the gutters.

"Now I do not know about your attitude towards English manners, Doctor Shaw, but I'd fancy a pint before we enter business negotiations."

 

\--------------------------------

 

A man swam ashore. Despite his already weary body, he managed to continue in big strokes until he finally reached the dock. He dug his fingers into the wet wood and heaved himself up.

Bloody pirates he thought.

A very nice gentleman - who wasn't such a gentleman after all - had granted him a place onboard his ship and passage to Demon's Run in exchange for good money. Half was paid at - where they originally started their journey. Half was to be paid here. A mile or so before they entered the gates, the Captain had come to him and asked for the other half.

The Doctor had shrugged. "You will have to wait. It's in the city."

"And how could I believe you with that?"

"You can't. But you can trust the Briga - Captain Stewart."

"You're part of the UNIT crew?" The Captain of this pitiful vessel had shook his head. "You look too fine a bird for a crewmember. And you don't own a dashing moustache like Stewart." He regarded the Doctor's attire, white frizzy shirt, he managed to keep it without stains for all the voyage. And the velvet jacket! Not to mention his hat and the immaculate dark leather shoes.

Yes, perhaps he did look too good to be part of a renowned pirate ship.

Something you might not think a disadvantage. And here it was.

"I'm telling the truth," the Doctor tried to reassure him, "Once we get to the docks, I'll go straight to Stewart and bring you the money."

"Or I could just dump you lying scum in the water right now."

"My dear chap, do not take me for a liar!"

"Really? Show me the patch. I know every UNIT member has one. It's not sewn onto your jacket, but maybe you have one hidden beneath it?"

The Doctor inhaled sharply. "I do not have a patch."

"Well, walk the plank, then. If you aren't a liar and you really dine with Captain Stewart, my condolences and I do hope you will not live to introduce us."

"Don't be ridiculous, man, chances are I'll end up under a ship. Or clashed against rocks. Or worse!"

"Might as well be."

\--------------------------------

The tavern they ended up in - the Black Archive - was surprisingly neat. Black as day, of course. Exactly as the name suggested. The aesthetic aspect was one of the key points of pirate must-have. Perfectioned by all kinds of trinkets, adorned embroidery from the East and, in contrast to many beliefs, the total abscence of skull-related decorative elements.

A group of men who were clearly enjoying their time sat, stood and even lied down in front of it, drinking, joking and laughing loudly.

"These are my merry men," was the introduction. "Rats from all over the world."

"Most of us is the from the Empire, though," one of them intervened, sitting on a few steps before the Archive. When Liz let her gaze wander over him, she discovered that he had sewn a rather elegant dark patch onto his own coat. It read "UNIT" in darker letters.

The Captain shook his head slightly, sighing disapprovingly. "Benton, the sun never sets over the Empire these days, stretched as it is."

"Do pirates even have a sense of nationality?" Liz inquired.

"Pirates?" The man called Benton raised his brows and held his hand to his chest, mimicking a physical wound. "My dear lady, we are not merely pirates."

Liz straightened her shoulders and looked around her. What she was definitely reminded of 'pirate'. "Perhaps we should look the proper definition up in a dictionary?" she suggested.

The Captain placed a hand on her arm. "What Benton's trying to say is that you should not compare those who sail under the flag of UNIT with scrubbly amateurs who think they can tame the mighty Sea just because they recently came in possession of a nutshell to play with."

She bit back a remark about how absolutely pretentious that sounded.

He led her past Benton inside the tavern. Compared to the one's she previously catched a glimpse of, it was relatively neat, with enough space as to not get randomly stabbed simply for stepping on someone's foot.

"The Black Archive."

They wandered in between the tables to a darker, more abgelegener niche at the far end of the room, where only soft candlelight kept the night at bay.

"Also known as the headquarter." When they reached the table, he gestured for her to sit down. Both took places across the table, looking each other directly in the eye.

"Might we start by introducing ourselves first?"

"I have the feeling it won't be necessary, Captain Stewart."

"I see. My reputation precedes me. Well, then. What else do you already know, Doctor?"

Liz leant back in her chair. A sailor came along, muttering greetings under his breath, and placed two bottles of fine rum on the table. According to the date, it must have been a fairly old treasure. She took a gulp, finding it both polite and extremely refreshing, before continuing.

"In Britain one can hear all sorts of stories. One that says you wear an eyepatch and smell like the corpses of all the good men you've slain. From what I see, this is evidently a bit far off."

"Perhaps I have not killed any good men."

"Or it's just impossible for a human to take on the odor of their victims. Once in a while you should take a bath and do not get me wrong but you do not look like the person to bath in dead bodies.

In England, everyone hears stories about the pirates. Coastal regions even more. I'm from Cambridge, we can listen to a moderate amount. There are many a shadow out there you do not want your sailor husband to face.. the Kaled or the Zygon. One of the most feared is certainly the Sea Devil, but for a good amount of years the top post of striking fear in grown men's hearts belongs to the "UNIT", led by Captain Stewart. It is said you're from the Empire, but as you pointed out before, that's not necessarily uncommon. Soul as wretched as humanly possible, perhaps sold to Satan himself. Rumour says you've been in the Navy until, one day, you deserted, got hold of a ship and took half the crew with you. No living creature that lives under the guidance of good morals, or so they say, has ever seen the moustache on your face and returned to speak of it."

The Captain grinned. "Amazing what the human mind can think of." Curious to see where her story would lead, he gestured for her to go on.

"Well, it's all the usual stuff, really." She sighed. "Daring adventures, fortunes discoverered.. According to most, you are the most wealthy pirate of all the seas. That would explain the reward put out for your head."

"And?" He asked. "What do you think of the great Captain Stewart, now that you shared his hopsitality?"

"I'd not bestow a pint with words of true chivalrous hospitality, but then again I suspect you of trying one or two things to woo me over. Because that is all you want, is it not? Tell me." She leant forward, clasping her hands together, cocking her head, her red hair catching glimmers of the candlelight. "What am I to do on a pirate ship?"

Captain Stewart leant back in his own chair and folded his hands in his lap. "Well, as Benton already pointed out to you, it is not a real pirate ship. Yes, we do pillage and plunder. But, quite the contrary to many bad tale told about us - although I do feel grateful for their existence - our oh so devious side is a lot less excessive than presented. There have been a few battles, a few killings, but we're not the brutal savages they tell you about in

No, the real purpose of UNIT isn't to enjoy ruining lifes and making widows. Our intention is to help keep the balance. Trust me, there are parts of this world we haven't seen yet. And there they sleep.. Monsters. All real, Doctor Shaw. I've seen them myself. We at UNIT made it our prime focus to deal with them. Keep them at bay. Kill them if need be. The Empire doesn't help its people, so we took it in our own hands."

It was a nice speech and at the end, Liz simply raised her brows and licked her lips. "Evil monster creatures? You mean like the great Kraken? Mouth as wide as two ships? Tentacles the size of six?"

She said it slowly, whilst making deliberately tight eye contact.

"You don't believe me?"

Liz scoffed. "Of course I don't. By now, you might have realized that I'm a woman of science, a marine expert! I believe in facts and not.. not myths! This is an insult to my profession, to my very core!"

"It was not intended to be.. Once upon a time, see, we sailed with a man called 'the Doctor'. He was very much like you, only difference was that he believed in the monsters too. Before us, even. Twice, we met him. His expertise helped us learn more about them, find them faster and handle our job with greater care... But then he vanished and he hasn't shown his face since. We need an advisor, Miss Shaw. A navigator of special sorts. Someone who studied the life below and has a passion for adventure. And you seem like just the woman."

"Really? Because I do not see how."

"Allow me this rudeness, but you're a sceptic, Miss. A whole woman filled with knowledge, only flawed by that one horrible aspect of her personality."

Liz felt her fingers dug into the chair. "Monsters. Don't. Exist. Really, I have expected better from a who is rumoured to be 'real' pirate. One comes all this way and then: ghost stories."

"Speaking of your home," the Captain traced the rim of his glass with his fingers. "You left England for nothing but a card that bore this very address in this very region. I wonder, why would any sane woman leave the sanctuary of easy life in an English town to venture out here into the unknown depths of disgrace?"

This made Liz furious. Was he mocking her? The audacity!

She managed to keep her voice -, but it rather nearly turned into hisses. "That has nothing to do with it. Despite.. are you serious?"

She wanted to say much more. Words along the lines of: Have you perchance ever seen how a woman is generally treated in this world? In Cambridge, I may be one of the best, but I will never be regarded as such for the simple fact that apparently, I am destined to bear children, not educate them. Of course I cling on to false hope and venture out into this godforsaken hellhole of a city.

She desired to spit them all out, right there on this table, rough and most likely stolen. Because they could.

It took her a few seconds, but she did manage her temper. And, to be fair, she felt quite pleased with herself. She had succeeded in not jumping over the table and murdering him on the spot, so that was something.

Taking in a large breath of air, Liz grabbed her bag.

"A shame you don't hold up to my expectations, Captain Stewart."


	2. Welcome Aboard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz attempts to return to England. Somehow, that doesn't work and she is left with no option other than joining Stewart's crew.

The door shut behind Miss Shaw. Not about to waste even a single moment, Stewart called for his First Mate, a strapping young man that had waited a few seats away, sipping his own brandy in silence.

"Yates," Stewart ordered when his footsteps came to a halt behind him, "I want to know exactly where this woman will choose to spend the night. And come sunrise, no ship will leave this place with her feet on deck, understood?"

"Alright, Sir. But-"

"No questions, Yates." And so the First Mate set off.

Later he would return with the news that the Miss Elizabeth Shaw lodged in a shubby home relatively far away from the roaring middle of the metropolis and apparently intended to sail home the very next morning.

"I've seen her ask around which one'll set off to London soon. She's very adamant at returning to Britain."

But Captain Lethbridge-Stewart would not give in. Not yet.

Not when he thought himself so close to meeting the Sirens.

  
Liz Shaw flinged her bag onto the pile of blankets they called a bed in this part of the not so civilized world. She inspected the room: Tiny, stuffy and still filled with the dumpf noise.

She was close to crying. One could not clench their fists and breathe every worry away forever.

This wasn't fair. Absolutely not. All she wanted since her childhood was to go out on an adventure, like her heroes before her. What was going to stop her? Sure, they had been male and she was a girl, but was that so bad?

It had taken years of effort to finally be granted even access to the university and pursue a degree in marine life. She had wälzen more books than she could count and she definitely proved herself worthy.

She tried to calm down, relax, be fine with the fact that sometimes in life, things went south. But screw it, she was so done.

Liz Shaw was born with the curse of a highly logical, rational mind. It had earned her many scoldings, but later in life turned out to be a blessing. Soon she came to know that not every door stood open for her. In fact, they were slammed shut, bolted twice, different layers of furniture propped in front of it, the key washed away by a river.

A year ago, she'd finished her degree. With excellence. Full of warmth and smiles, she had applied to the most favourite workplace she could think of, despite her fellow students telling her she couldn't pull it off.

"No," she had said, "Don't make assumptions about me based on my gender. One day I'll sail a ship so magnificent and I'll find out the most extraordinary things, do what no one did before me.."

She hadn't been accepted into His Royal Majesty's Navy. They didn't trust in her expertise.

Which, naturally, was simply a code word for "Your half is less worthy than the other half".

And now an idiotic pirate had mocked her. A thief and a scoundrel. A liar and a cheat. Quite certainly even worse.

Or had she been the idiot all along? For believing, for coming? God, she felt so stupid. And she felt the tears running down the corners of her eyes when she laid down onto the bed. She hated them, but that didn't stop their arrival.

She had been born with the curse of a highly logical, rational mind. It had earned her many scoldings, but later in life turned out to be a blessing. Soon she came to know that not every door stood open for her. In fact, they were slammed shut, bolted twice, layers of furniture propped in front of it, the key washed away by a river.

The kind of doors that had to be stomped open.

She had to stand her ground.

When she was shy of twenty years, Liz Shaw decided to go to university. But not for the arts, as some would still deem acceptable, but as a scientist. Filled with the hunger for knowledge, development and a better understanding of their world.

Liz had excelled at all they had thrown at her. Proved herself many times, and yet they still didn't accept her. It was more than frustrating, it was vicious, vile and stupid.

 

  
The next day arrived, and Liz went out early. Flung her bag over her shoulder, looked back upon the shitty room, and left. At the docks, she quickly reconciled with some of the sailors she'd seen in the previous night, and once again asked them for passage on their ships.

They denied it.  
"I can pay," Liz assured them, patting against the folds of her clothing, so that the hidden coins clinged together melodically.

"Nah, the Captain won't risk it. Women are bad luck, you know."

"Alright, then. I'll try the next one."

She did. Again all her efforts met a brick wall.

Repeatedly.

In doing so, she lost the entire morning, and eventually, she gave up. She went to a pub and asked for a simple meal. It was disgusting, of course, but hunger made do. And boredom. And lack of ideas.

Could she stow away on a ship? No, that might turn out to be too risky. Not all people knew the meaning of the word 'decency', and even less about the kind handling of harmless scientists.

Liz slid the owner a few copper coins and headed back. The noon crowd should do it.

Just as she'd left, she caught a glimpse of the Dutch merchant. She knew he'd be leaving for Europe again, and he already knew that she would not cheat him.

"Heer Boerefijn!" she called out, catching up to his busy, quick step. More like a bee than a man, always out on the hunt for new treasure. "Could you spare a moment, please?"

The man turned around, large brows heaving up at the sight of the English woman. "Miss Shaw?" he asked with his slight accent. "What do you want, Miss? I need to leave again soon."

"Yes, because of that, I'd like to ask you something."

"Then what is it?"

"Would you perhaps take me with you to Europe?"

"Oh.. We'll go to Amsterdam, not London."

"That's fine with me."

The man grinded his teeth, a boot digging deeper into the mud. "Miss Shaw, I do not have much space left, you see."

"I can sleep on the planks, if need be. And I can pay!"

God, she hated how desperate she sounded.

He gave in. Yes. Good. Finally.

And he named a sum.

Too much.

Liz' heart suddenly became way too heavy. "I.. I do not have that much with me.. Can we perhaps-"

"I'm sorry, Miss Shaw. But do not worry, you are pleasant company, someone will take you." It seemed that Boerefijn really was compassionate. Despite his actions. He even cocked his head a little sideways and directed a meaningful glance at her. That was more than she had seen him do in weeks on the ship.

Liz didn't reply. Her hands sank to her sides, her shoulders slunched forward. Borerfijn left. All the way to his stinking ship and damned fish and stupid crew.

Liz' lower lip pushed its way forward, her eyes turning heavy with the inevitable outburst of tears. She trembled. Without drawing too much attention to herself, Liz sneaked back to a bench, where she sat down, put her belongings on her lap and rested her head on them.

Screw this, she thought to herself. Screw all of them.

  
"Returning is always more dure than coming, isn't it?" Recalled a familiar voice coming up behind her.

Liz cringed. Oh no. Not _that_ man.

She straightened. "Actually, I got it all under control."

She shrugged, hoping that her eyes weren't so red that they would give away the play she was acting out. "Besides, I've seen worse. Ever seen what a crop failure does to bread prices? Horrific."

He came to a halt in front her.

"I do. Just as I know that you are hell bent on going back to England. Yet you don't have the money, which means you're stranded here until someone takes mercy on your poor soul. Not a nice place to stay, if we're being honest. Now, what good fortune that I could catch you. As it is my fault, I do feel rather obliged to help you out. Makes my soul rest easy."

Stewart produced a few golden coins from his pocket, but Liz stopped him. "I will certainly not have you pay for my passage!"

He cocked his head and produced the most heinous grin. "Really? Then would you care to elaborate on how else you will find your way back to England?"

Liz snorted. "This is insane! I do not think that every ship here would only take me for such an incredulous amount! I will get back even without UNITs help."

"It saddens me to say, but many of the men here are superstitious. A woman on board? That is not exactly the epitome of good luck, Miss Shaw." He edged closer to her and nodded his head into the vague directions of other ships riled up neatly.

"Here's my offer: I take you to the nearest port to Cambridge, damn that London, and in return you listen to all my childish stories and study maps with me."

Liz ground her teeth.

Otherwise, did she have a better option? Her gaze lowered to the sight of his outstretched hand. She bit her lower lip and cursed herself for it. To hell with both of them.

She grabbed it, and shook it firmly, all the while maintaining fierce eyecontact.

"Fine. When does your ship leave?"

"Oh, in the next few hours. No need to worry about punctuality."

 

The _UNIT_ was rather majestic, even after all those years out at sea. Made of dark, strong and polished wood, rather military-looking but strong and withstanding like the giant she was. Sails the deepest green and keller filled to the brim was meat and mead.

Liz always thought a pirate would boast once he'd get the chance to show his gem to a new set of eyes. Stewart obviously was not one of those. He did watch her as they approached the enormous Man-of-War, a beast of the Sea, but he didn't try and talk Liz out of her blankets.

One of the very few things Liz was very grateful for.

  
The Doctor casually leaned against the rails when he saw the Captain walking along the docks alongside a young woman. Her hair really stung out in the bright sunlight. A fainter shade of red, but in this light it might fool to be completely blonde.

"Brigadier!" The Doctor raised a hand to his head. A meak nod followed.

Liz supposed this was meant to be the sort of greeting that indicates a happiness to reconcile with a better-known acquaintance, yet no immediate thrill at that.

At the sound of his voice, Captain's head had turned, stopping mid-sentence. As he realized who his strange new visitor was, his hardened features calmed and his steps were agitated. "Doctor!" he called with mild reproach. "Where have you been? After the Invasion we lost track of you. We thought you've been hanged or else."

The Doctor, a charming fellow, Liz could already tell, shook his head slightly. "Not my thing. I escaped the place, lived a few of my own adventures.. Some undertakings more useful than others.. What have you been up to, old chap? They say you recently burned some ships?"

"One" he was corrected. "More accidentally than on purpose, but I suppose it makes for good publicity."

"Yeah.." the Doctor's gaze wandered past him. "Oh, hello," he greeted Liz, indicating a bow. "Never hoped I'd see the Brig in such fine company. I prefer to go by the Doctor, and what may I call you?"

"Liz Shaw. Nice to meet you, Doctor." Then, with a slight glance to the Captain, she added: "I've already heard of you."

"Really? Only flattering anecdotes, I hope? A propos.. Dear chap, would you mind taking me with you for a ride or two? Now that our parts crossed again.."

The Captain's eyes turned to slits. "What do you want?" He tried to sound annoyed and managed it quite well, yet Liz was close enough to see the way the corner of his mouth twitched, a faint smile, and a glimmer in his eyes.

"What I want? To take advantage of my contacts, as I said. It grieves me to say, but I.. I lost my own dear Bessie."

"Excuse me, perhaps it is the morning sun, but pray tell me.. How can you simply lose a ship? Also one _I_ gave to you?"

Liz surpressed a laugh as the Doctor raised his index finger and pointed at the Captain.

"That is.. No, I will not answer that. There will come a day when you, Alistair Gordon, will regret what you just said."

"I look forward to it. Make yourself at home, Doctor, I suppose you won't leave and to be frank I did quite miss your expertise. Ask the boys whether or not they have a free cot. If need be, the bilge is vacant. If you don't mind, I'd like to guide Miss Shaw to her quarters."

 

Her room was surprisingly large. Large shelves were filled with books, charts adorned the walls and tables and were rolled up beneath it and fresh ink rested next to paper, waiting for work to be commenced. There was a window, too, albeit already battered and dirty. A single bed.

"I hope this will suffice."

"Of course it does. Thank you. Now, how exactly shall I help you in return?"

"We will ask the Doctor. Now he's here. Maybe he has seen something I haven't and vice versa."

"The Doctor.. He called you 'Brigadier'."

"He did indeed."

However, the Captain did not seem in the mood to elaborate further. He left her alone to unpack her few belongings and went on deck to sort out the rest and prepare for leftoff.

Liz' first instincts told her to gaze at the books. There were quite a lot for a pirate ship, she thought. And not all about random sea monsters some drunkards might have seen. She found a special treat hidden beneath it. An acknowledged real story!

She picked it up and flew through the pages.  
Something fell out.  
Hastily, she knelt down to pick it up.

Nothing more but a pressed daffodil.

Liz would have loved to find out where exactly it had been stuck, but she had already lost the page forever. Silently, and a bit disappointed, she pushed back the book and placed the yellow flower before it, hoping it wasn't too important.

Then she occupied herself with her baggage. One bag. Nothing more, nothing less. Perhaps she would have trouble finding spare clothes, but then again, bad body odor would hardly scare off pirates.

She could grow accustomed to this place. Somehow,it felt good here. The smell of old leather and paper, the heavy desk.. It all spoke to Liz's heart. She nearly jumped back when there was a knock at the door.

"Ma'am?"

She did not know what to say. Do you say "You may enter" to a pirate? Her decision fell on a simple: "Yes?"

She recognized the man as Benton. He drove one hand through his hair and nervously tried to avoid her gaze. "We will be leaving shortly. Just wanted to tell you. It will be a long journey till Britain. It's the first night out on Sea again and.. perhaps you'd like to join the crew?"

Her gaze must have already told a lot.

"Not like that, Ma'am. But first night always means a good drink and a nice meal. You shouldn't miss it, the days become harder from then on."

She nodded. "Alright. Thank you.. Benton."

  
Not a long while later, new knocks broke the silence. Liz sat crosslegged on her bed, a few volumes about the Caribbean shores and marine life next to her. She didn't even bother to say anything and it would not have changed a lot anyways, as the newcomer already entered.

It was the Doctor who started scrutinizing the place the minute he stepped over the threshold. He had left his coat somewhere, and must have combed his hair, although it didn't do much about the errant curls that circled his head.

He was aware of her presence, yet he only had eyes for the room. Drawing his fingers along the shelves, he inhaled sharply when he noticed the ungrateful amount of dust that had gathered on his fingertips.

"That man should be hanged," he cursed, drawing out a cloth from his velvet frock coat and beginning to swipe the shelves. In doing so, he accidentally kicked the hidden flower off the board. When he knelt down to pick it up, he noticed that it was in fact a pressed dandelion. His brow furrowed.

"Why is it not in the book?" he asked, softly.

It took Liz a moment to realize he was talking to her. When she looked up from the yellowed pages, her eyes met his. Slowly, she put the book aside. "I suppose that was me.. I'm sorry. I only wanted to have a look at it."

"At a book about a man stranded on an island? Why pick up that one?"

"Because it was the only one that didn't tell of deep sea creatures and fairy tales?"

"Isn't a personal account a tale too, in some way?"

Liz got up from the bed and walked over to the Doctor, now rising and taking his usual posture, leaning nonchalantly against the shelf as he grabbed said book, finding the page the dandelion had belonged to.

"I never knew pirates could be so philosophical."

"Pirate?" The Doctor shook his head, curling his lip. "Not a pirate."

"How come that's exactly what every pirate on this known _pirate_ ship tells me?"

"I can't speak for them, but I.. Ah, well.. That's a long story."

"The journey to Cambridge takes a while. I have enough time."

"That's where you're from?"

"Yes, I have studied there. I am a specialist on marine life."

"Really? What a sweet pastime."

Liz' heart dropped to her stomach. Who did he think he was? Did he think woman so inferior that he didn't take her studies seriously? Or was it marine life in general? In her head, Liz formed out the most intricate of questions. Eventually, all that dripped through was:

"Excuse me?"

The Doctor took a step back, his face turning into visual concern. "Oh, I'm.. Did I sound rude again? Believe me, I do not intend to belittle your profession. It is just that I.. have seen a lot in life already and sometimes I forget that some aren't that far yet. I take it you are still young, aren't you?"

Younger than him, naturally. But she wouldn't call herself that young either. "Closer to thirty than twenty. But that is already enough to know that this Captain here isn't all that.. sane.. anymore."

"Why?"

Liz scoffed. "Do you know about this idea of his? You're old acquaintances, so I suppose you do. Sirens. Mythical creatures from fairy tales to scare children. He thinks they're real."

"Why shouldn't they?"

Liz threw her hands up. "Because there's no scientific evidence! How can one be oblivious to science? Now, you call yourself 'Doctor', shouldn't at least you understand?"

To that, the Doctor only shrugged. "All scientific discovieries started with a hypothesis, Miss Shaw. And for a hypothesis, you generally have to believe."

  
He finally found the page. However, he pushed the dandelion in too fast for Liz to make out what information it held. Tugging the book under his arm, he performed another one of his pretentious bows. "Might we continue this lovely dispute later on, my dear? I would very much like to see the Captain."

"May I know why?" Liz asked.

"History. We ought to tell us a lot. Haven't seen each other in a fairly long time." His hand returned to the doorknob. Before he left, he said: "If I were you, I'd read those so-called fairy tales. Especially chapters about merfolk."


	3. Bon Voyage

Benton had been right. On the first night at sea, the crew celebrated more voluptious than any ballroom she had ever seen. Not that there have been many, but still.

  
It all started off with a fairly good meal, the entire crew sitting on deck, illuminated by warm candlelight and the moon's reflections in the calm waves. It was still warm, and Liz left her jacket in her cabin. There had been made a place for her between the man called Benton and a woman - Campbell. She had not expected another woman to be on board, but when Liz asked, she only shrugged. "To the sea we're all the same."

  
Liz hadn't realized how spare her meals had been up to this point. She basically devoured the meat, devotely keeping herself from licking her fingers. And the beverages? Oh dear, they were something. Soon everyone on board was a little drunk, roaring with laughter and under the constant threat of swinging overboard.

  
They didn't even seem to care that she didn't belong there. The men, not as gruesome as one might think, were all decent fellows. Not a single one made remarks that might have suggested otherwise. They _did_ know some good jokes, though.

  
Benton licked his fingers, lemon juice running down his arm, and lightly squeezed his elbow into Liz' side. "Tell me," he said.

  
Liz stopped mid-apple. "What?"

  
"About you. Now that you're on board, it's better when we get to know each other. I for one, I'm incredibly shy. That may come in handy."

  
"Really? You don't give me that impression."

  
When she said that, a blush rose up his cheeks. "Well, maybe I forget that sometimes.. We're a family here. I can be myself. Perhaps the fact that I don't know you still needs to sink in."

  
"Well, I'm Liz. Not prejudiced or anything. Really tired. Oh, and I studied marine life. I'm sure you didn't know that by know, did you?"

  
"So I take it you love the Sea, too?"

  
"Haven't been up close with it that often. But it's... intriguing. It's so vast. And we don't know what's out there. Or down there, for that matter." A smile appeared on her face, accompanied by the waving shadows of the lanterns, and Benton couldn't keep himself from grinning either.

  
"It does that to you. And what's your favourite ship?"

  
She raised an eyebrow. "My what?"

  
"Ship. This is a warship, for one, borrowed from our dearest English Navy, but I'm sure you know all about that. To some they're just ships. Cargo carriers, but sooner or later you feel that special connection, you know... I always wanted to man a jolly boat. Simple as that. Me, myself and someone to tell me I look good maneovring it across the tiny river that seperates our own tiny island from the village we live next to."

  
"That... meek?"

  
"You know, I wouldn't make a pompous, flamboyant pirate king or anything. I'd be happy with that. A simple vessel, easy to take care of.. All I want, really. No fleet of finest."

  
"Alright.. I have one too." Liz snorted. "It's really silly, though. Sentimental."

 

"So is everyone's. Go on."

  
"You brought this upon yourself.. See, when I was at Cambridge, I was confronted with the teachings of a man called Charles Darwin. Apparently, he undertook a voyage on the _HMS Beagle_ , contemplating about his works on the way... I always wanted to do the same."

  
"What kind of ship was the _Beagle_ , pray tell?"

  
"Oh." Liz leant back her head, a crease forming between her brows. She let out a large breath as she turned to Benton, shrugging. "A Brig."

  
It would have taken the sacrifice of a world wonder to read the expression Benton carried. He looked at her for a moment, mouth slightly opened in contemplation, a strange kind of joy painted upon his face, knowledge that Liz did not yet posess, before he snatched a bottle from the table.

  
"To our peculiar natures then: meek and wandering."

  
Their bottles rang together with a clang, ringing in their ears as they took deep gulps of liquor. "Oh, Benton," Liz mused, "You are quite the jolly fellow. How come, though?"

  
"That I'm a jolly fellow?"

  
"Oh, no.. Why does everyone call you _Benton_ , not your first name?" She frowned. "That is, do you even have one? Or is it too abominable to speak of?"

  
"It's John."

  
"John.." Liz let his name sit on her tongue. "Hm. Can't see what's wrong with that."

  
"You know," Benton explained, "It's the Captain's way of calling us. Yates, Benton, Bell... Miss Shaw?"

 

"Quite militaristic, wouldn't you agree? I always thought pirates had a more.. heartfelt nature."

  
"Do not be fooled, Miss, we are all a large great family. Once you're in, you're in for life. You don't go changing sides. When you leave _UNIT_ , you either retire into ordinary life or, well, you stick around."

  
"How come?"

  
"Perhaps you will stay long enough to find out, Miss. We love each other. I do not exaggerate when I say that given certain circumstances we would die for each other. And I think once someone is willing to endure hell for you.. then you're in for it."  
"Isn't it dangerous for a rogue to harbour feelings like this? You know, feel something for someone and get hurt? Become opressed? Clouded in your judgment?"

  
Benton shook his head, a wehleidig- on his face. "No, it is not at all like that. It's not a weakness. More like an armour. You become invincible. You become able to overcome all kinds of treachery life throws upon you, just because you see their faces before the blow. And the desire to meet again. Sure it can.. it can hurt sometimes, but life wouldn't be life without occasional itches. And the good moments wouldn't feel as good without the bad."

  
Liz Shaw didn't know what to say. She hadn't expected a pirate to fling out philosphical words at her, not at all in such intensity and... beauty, even. She sat there, mesmerized by the way the light caught in Benton's eyes, when they were harshly interrupted.

  
"Let's have some music!" One of the men suggested and grabbed a battered guitar. He stood up on a barrel and started to sing.  
"No, not you!" complained another voice. "Get down there immediately and give it to Benton!"

  
"Nah!" screeched another one. "The Doctor's back! I wanna hear a Venusian lullaby! Waited years for that."

  
Benton grinned, edging a little closer to Liz. "Can you sing?" he asked her, albeit the noise tried the best it could to drown the answer.

  
"Better not" Liz assured him. Then she asked: "Is it always like this?"

  
Benton nodded: "Yeah. The crew's having fun, but come tomorrow half of us will wish we stayed at home."

  
"Why?"

  
Benton cocked his head towards the stirring wheel. Next to it, the Doctor and the Captain were both hunched over a table, pointing to various locations on a chart. They have already finished their meals quite soon and did not seem to participate in any fun activities.

  
" _UNIT_ is on the hunt again. It's one of the fastest ship in this world, you know. A precious jewel. But our Captain here demands the best. I guess that's in his blood now. We shouldn't complain, though. At least we start our endeavours fashionably."

  
Liz cocked her head in a desperate try to make out just what it was the men were talking about up there. "Aren't we going to Britain?" she asked Benton.

  
He frowned. "It's a big island, Ma'am. One day we'll wash up there sure enough."  
That made Liz sit back in her chair. She thought a moment. Her fingers tightened around the table as she slowly got up. "I'll be back" she announced, but no one except Benton seemed to hear it. They were all way too jolly already.

 

  
Liz' feet took her around half the ship and up the creaking steps of the stairs. The Captains eyes simply rose up and acknowledged her, then went back to the chart. "So this must be where we should meet them?"

  
"Like Odysseus. If my calculations aren't wrong. And they are always right."

  
"Excuse me," Liz said.

  
The men carried on.

  
"But how will we get the ship through this maze? The rocks could seriously damage our keel. Or we could risk goingaground."

  
The Doctor held his fingers to his lips. "Yes.. I suppose there's always the danger of such things happening, with a ship like this. Only I fear the geographical conditions will be the easiest to defeat."

  
"Hello?" Liz tried again. No one reacted. Before she had to ask a third time, she snapped, grabbed her knife and flung it into the chart. She did not intend to hurt any of them, but the knife was close enough to make even a blind men recognize the urgency.

  
"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.." the Doctor muttered slightly as he backed away, sensing he might not like to be around the inevitable disaster to occur in mere seconds. The Captain, however, held Liz' gaze.

  
"This was a highly expensive chart, Miss Shaw." He stated, smoothing the edges. "I do hope you have a good reason for interrupting."

  
Liz ignored him. "You told me we'd go to Britain. Apparently we're not?" She looked at the chart. Upside down, it proved to be a challenge to see what it meant, but nothing Liz couldn't best. "Ah.. Now, this really isn't Britain. Might I say it's near the.... West African coast? My Lord, we really are heading a long way from home, aren't we?"

  
"Miss Shaw-"

  
Her hands drove over the cut in the expensive paper of the map. A part of her felt incredibly sorry for the table too, but the blood in her veins already boiled. It took all her might to put the weapon back to her belt. Her arms leant against the desk and she leaned over the table to face the Captain. The tips of their noses were mere milliimetres apart. Her voice was calm now, but in it swept all fury one could give."You told those wretched bastards at the port to not get me to London, didn't you?"

  
Silence proved to be an answer, too. She balled her hand into a fist. It shook violently, visibly. Feelings of betrayal rising up and turning her into a boiling pot. Stupid girl, stupid girl..

  
"Did you ever intend to take me back home?"

  
"All roads lead to Rome." The Captain stepped back. "I _need_ your knowledge, and I _want_ you to see. You will not have to live the rest of your days on here, Miss Shaw, but you will work as a member of the crew. Perhaps our voyage will come to a soon end once you open up your mind?"

  
Liz was furious. "It is not your decision to make! And you know very well what I think of all those stories. What are we going to have a look at? The _Flying Dutchman_?"

  
The Doctor intervened, softly taking the chart from the table, possibly to prevent it from any more damage should Liz decide to launch across the table and literally take matters into her own hands.

  
"Believe it or not, Miss Shaw, but a ship like the _Flying Dutchman_ is real, only in different shape and name. If you want to see the most devious of ships, the one place you do not wish to see moments before merciful instant death is the best you could hope for, then I've seen it already."

  
Liz closed her eyes. Mentally groaning at this sheer.. She didn't even have words for this folly.

  
"Stop telling me about ghost ships, Doctor. I want answers! Alright. I understand. You are completely out of your mind, that is, if you ever posessed one in the first place. But tell me: What is it that _I_ am so desperately needed for?"

  
Then she remembered her brief encounter with the Doctor in her rooms. The soft light of the lantern illuminated the men's faces as both of them shared a glance and then turned to her.

  
"Sirens, Miss Shaw. Call me mad all you like, but you cannot have failed to notice that very question of yours. You started to believe that this might be dangerous. That's a start. And forgive me my not telling you, but despite everything, I still believe you might prove to be a great asset in this journey. Do not worry, you will receive payment."

 

 

Liz then returned to the solitude in her room. The room that had, as she was certain of, previously belonged to the Doctor. It would explain his behaviour when he entered it, as well as the dust. Normally, only a Captain would be granted such luxury onboard a ship. On the UNIT, different traditions seemed to reign.

  
But how many ships had their own experts on deck? Older, wise sailors, sure, but people like the Doctor? He was strange. And pretty charming, actually. So far, Liz did not know what to make of him. Was he a sailor too? Or rather a scholar who ended up in this scruggly world by coincidence?

  
She sighed. Eyeing her bed, she took the task of testing out the feathered mattress. That pillow truly was a gift.. If possibly the only one she would be granted. Fair treatment was apparently not available.  
On deck, another wave of bellows echoed.

  
She massaged her temples. Yes, sleep would be a relief. But she still had some time to kill before she could enjoy it properly. She got up again and headed towards the shelf.

  
Merfolk... Sirens..

 

The stuff of legend.

  
The exact shadow this Captain was chasing. Was he the owner of a ghost ship, Liz might have been inclined to believe his judgment in the supernatural. Under these circumstances, she believed he was a lunatic.

  
Frankly, quite the same applied to her.

  
"Sirens.." she whispered over and over, scanning the titles. Her finger drew along the spines, some already wrinkly. There! "Mermaid creatures - The Fury from the Deep"

  
Perhaps hat might tell her something about sirens?

  
Liz hesitated.. Where did one even draw the line between mermaid and siren? Was a mermaid a friendly woman with a fishtail and a siren a faked illusion luring you to death? Would the writer of this novel know that? Has he met them before? And how did such a work get into the hands of the Captain?

  
She cursed herself for starting to think as though she believed them. She let her head clang against the wooden board.

  
It seemed childish, it was idiocy. This behaviour wouldn't get her anywhere.

  
Nevertheless, Liz Shaw knew one goal: reaching home. Or at least a place where she would like to stay, if the world would not allow her to seek her personal haven.

  
And if she needed to go bonkers with a band of silly men, then she might as well start her readings.


	4. Attack on Tardis

"Captain?"

 

Benton walked up toward the steering wheel. "All hands on deck. What is our heading? it isn't my place to say this but.. These aren't deep waters. Where are we going?"

 

The Captain, one hand on his forehead, shielding his eyes from the piercing midday sun, put the left one in his pocket, retrieving a compass. Checking the directions, he nodded. "Pillage and plunder, Benton. The course is right."

 

"But weren't we supposed to be on a discovery mission?"

 

"Sure. But do you know what lies there?" The Captain drew his green hat deeper into the face and pointed out to the horizon in front of them, where waves and heavens kissed. When Benton shook his head, he answered, in the most tender voice: "Tardis. A merchant's port.. Tell the men to be ready for the night. Might just be a great find."

 

"Are we out for anything special?"

  
"Oh, no. Take all that we can use. Or sell. Just not too much, please.. And lay prime focus on artillery."

 

"Why is that?"

 

"Oh, where we venture to, I do suspect we will find bad company. Bullets have so far hurt lots of miscreants, can't be too bad to have even more of them aboard. And I have heard Tardis' new governor was very fond of explosives. . ."

 

"If you care for my opinion, Captain.." He didn't go on, though. Bit his lip, even. One of the few unspoken rules aboard a ship: What the Captain orders has to be fulfilled. Without hesitation.

 

Both of them knew that. Stewart crossed his arms. "Yes, do finish that sentence, Benton. You felt the need to talk?"

 

"Well.. I do not think it is.. necessary?"

 

"Would you care to elaborate on that?"

 

"I-"

 

"Benton, do me a favour and tell me the exact number of weapons stored on board of this ship."

 

"I.."

 

"There you have it, Benton _**. I** _ **,** for one, counted. I always do. We do have a bunch inside the artillery, and everyone carries around their favourites, but do not be mistaken in a simple truth: One can never have enough iron."

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

The Doctor was furious. He threw a parchment on the table when he entered the study. Somehow, he and Liz had grown to share the room. Both worked together and it worked surprisingly well - given Liz had simply accepted the existence of 'creatures' for the duration of her stay. They were out on Sea for an entire week now and, although she was still extremely cross with the Captain, she confessed to herself she did not have a particularly bad time onboard.

 

"Why is it called _UNIT_ ? **"** she had asked the Doctor once.

 

He simply shrugged. "It's an acronym. Chosen by the Captain."

 

"Yeah but.. UNIT. This does not sound like a pirate ship when you distance it from it's reputation. It sounds much more.. militaristic."

 

The Doctor had looked at her with an occupied, emotionless face. "My dear Liz, have you ever caught a glimpse of the man you're working for? Or were you too busy channeling your inner loath?"

 

"Is he from the military?" Liz had then asked.

 

The Doctor of course dodged that question. "You can ask him that yourself. But a warning from a good friend: He doesn't like to talk about his past. It's better to never bring it up."

 

Liz rolled her eyes, feeling them transcend into oblivion. Sure he'd say that. And he knew perfectly well that Liz wouldn't just step up to their Captain and interview him about his life.

 

"Then why don't you tell me?"

 

"Because I believe that's not how you act between friends - opening your private life up to colleagues."

 

Liz had given in, then. It wasn't that important anyway. Simply a ship she was on now and the man that ruled it.

 

"What about you, then?" she then ventured, turning the page in a book and scribbling down notes on a seperate sheet of paper. That could work for a calculation.. "What does _your_ past look like?"

 

"Equally as unpleasant, I pray tell. By the way, if you should perchance decide to leave Stewart one day, you're very welcome to sign on for me."

 

"You?" Liz raised a brow. "What? You and a dinghy you stole? Bessie?"

 

The Doctor shook his head lightly. "No, on my ship. My real ship. The only one that matters. But, I suppose, it doesn't matter anymore." His voice got tender, and Liz could have sworn to see stars dancing in his eyes. Like a lovelorn buffon, he fumbled at the pages, whilst glancing into another world.

 

"The TARDIS." He whispered. "That was her name. She was big, blue, and so utterly beautiful.."

 

He stopped, lost in dreams. Liz crept forward.

 

"What happened to her?" She inquired.

 

The Doctor's jaw set and stiffened as though a sharp pain flooded his body.

 

"Did you lose her?"

 

He nodded. His voice grew quiet when he spoke. "She was taken from me."

 

A shiver crawled up Liz' spine.

 

The Doctor tried to divert the situation: "But there were happy moments to, I.. I had the most formidable childhood. You see, I was a young lad once. Wild and full of energy. And I had a friend. Back in these days, all had been fine." His gaze became dark again. "Then it changed.. Now could you pass me that book over there, please?"

 

 

Today was not a day like that. Instead of writing down notes concerning Sirens and Mermaids (they had gathered a lot of gibberish by this point, but calculations had to be done, such as 'What exactly should the distance between ship and siren be when they entered the strait?' and 'How to prevent it?'), the Doctor sat down on the side of the bed und buried his head in his hands, massaging his temples with his forefingers.

 

"That MAN!" he bellowed, suddenly. Anger had risen to his cheeks. It was impossible for him to sit still, he kept fidgeting with his hands, trying to lose all that surplus energy.

 

Liz closed her book and went over to him. "What's the matter?"

 

"Oh.. Seems we're doing an even greater swerve. He decided to go and attack a city this night."

 

It didn't surprise Liz. That's what pirates do, after all. And as for the delay.. Well, she had lost a good portion of her trust in the Captain in this regard already. One or two escapades more really wouldn't do the trick.

 

"It is just so unnecessary." The Doctor explained, realizing how absolutely unaffected she was. "Have you seen the insides of the Archive during your stay at Demon's Run?"

 

Liz nodded.

 

He shook his head. "No.. If you would have, the look on your face would be different. You've only seen the top part. Have you ever wondered where his wealth goes? He doesn't have a fleet, only this one pathetic ship with guidance, and a tavern at land. The secret lies below the tavern. I've been there.. Any oriental lost treasure would shrink in contrast. What he has, he hoards. The crew get their share, but it certainly is not fair compared to the wealth he stores for reasons unknown to mankind."

 

He took a deep breath. "And yet he still persists. Reputation here, reputation there.. He could also try leaving the people alone for once. I've been there, in Tardis. Formerly known as Peladon, back in the days of the old governor. Nice place with many a good person. Just happens to have fat purses."

 

"So Stewart's no kind of pirate Robin Hood, then."

 

The Doctor scoffed. "Oh, Liz, please. Show me the pirate that only steals from the rich and gives it all to the poor and I will present to you the nonexitent phantom ideal we all strive to be. No matter what he says, he still plays dirty tricks. There would be no other way to keep a reputation that ghastly. Let's just hope they get it over with quickly."

 

  
\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

Years later, Jo would recall the night more vividly than she did then. Gunshots in the distance. She hopped out of her bed, her blank feet touched the cold ground. She tore at the curtains, trying to get a better view, but the thick wool was a worty opponent.

 

There a bit further out, but still close enough.

 

Eerie in the dark.

 

It's just a ship, Jo would try calm herself, but there was no point in denying the obvious. The dark stranger, spat out by the Sea at midnight, veiled in darkness and crowned by a flag, black as day. The wind blew it too heavy for Jo to actually make out which ship it was, but it didn't matter. It was a rogue's. It was a symbol of freedom, a beacon of hope.

 

From the upperstore of the already higher-placed mansion, Jo had a perfect view over the hoards of people that swept onto the shore and made their way into town.

 

This was what she read about.

 

And now it was here. And it was real.

 

Jo turned around, arms outstretched in the duly-lit room, grabbing the candle and moving to the other side of the bed. There were her shoes! Practical yet fashionable shoes. She slipped into them and hurried into her closet. A thick jacket. She did not bother about her nightgown. It was perhaps the most practical thing she had. Corsets really wouldn't do for midnight escapes..

 

Oh, escape she would. Far into freedom and leave all her past behind her.

 

She had never dreamed this day might come. But here it was. This ship - whichever it was - could take her away. She already felt she owed her life to her mysterious saviours.

 

But how leave? The mansion was filled with personell! All maids and servants and cooks and..

 

...The space beneath her window wasn't.

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

"Take what you can!" the pirates roared in groups, entering houses, shops and even post offices. Frightening a woman or two on the way, they were all soon dressed up with precious booty.

 

The villagers tried to fight back, of course. But they didn't succeed. The toll would consist of a single man on the pirate's side, an axe in his leg. A lot of destruction would await the village of Port Tardis, on the other hand.

 

The only people that weren't on land were the two poor rats damned to guard the ship as well as Liz and the Doctor. The latter having refused to go from the beginning and the former too occupied by work and the prospect of a good time without the everlasting stare of the Captain on her whenever she went out on deck to get a breath of fresh air and read under sunlight.

 

They didn't talk, but the Doctor sang a little, perhaps as if to stiffle the sounds echoing from the land.

 

Previously, she had uttered an idea.

 

"What if I just go out there?" She had mused. "Swim over to land and leave this godforsaken piece of mud.."

 

The Doctor shrugged. "I'd love to see the look on his face, but I would not advise it. If they'll find you, they might make a scapegoat out of you. Nothing good ever came from having a good colleague lost to unnecessary violence. No, dire as it may be, I'd sugest you stay here."

 

The Doctor's singing grew louder now. The cannon's roar echoed across the water. Liz was not familiar with the tune, but she soon hummed alongside the Doctor, it being relatively easy to learn. They were close to something now. Well, they did have a location. And general knowledge of sirens varied in wide amounts. Liz, for example, found the idea of Siren's always appearing in the form of beautiful young women ridiculous and incredibly stupid.

 

"They take on the form of whatever one wants most," she said, "Might be that for some man who has been from home too long it's a woman. But not everyone would willingly be driven to death by one, I'm sure."

 

"Yes, but then again, it says that sirens manipulate the men.. Perhaps all sirens do appear female after all?"

 

Liz' slender fingers travelled through her hair. "You know, if a siren simply gives you hope, takes it from you and jumps on its broken shards, then they might be of any gender."

 

"Now we get philosophical.."

 

"I fear we won't go anywhere further until we meet one of them personally. Let's make sure we'll ask their gender. Now, what is a way to prevent an attack? That seems more important."

 

"Simple! Don't venture into their waters."

 

Liz rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that too, but Stewart is hell bent on going there. Now, should we be there, in the middle of a reef, and like a miracle our ship won't burst.. How will we save ourselves? Can we stuff our ears with something?"

 

"That would work in case you need to actually be able to listen to their lulling.. But we might take that precaution. Could we chain ourselves to the ship?"

 

"Certainly. But not all of us.." Liz rested against the wall and drew her knees to her chest. "What if.. now, what if you attack _them_? Doctor, you should really write a publication about this endeavour once we're done."

 

"Not you?"

 

"Oh, please."

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

Jo was on the beach now. She had managed to knot herself a makeshift rope out of a few blankets and towels, and the fence was relatively easy to climb. Then in the shadows, she could easily get to one of the lesser guarded coves at the far side of the port. There was a dinghy, and with that she could get to the ship!

 

She was so excited she jumped over fallen trees and rubble. There it was! The boat that would take her to freedom. It took all the might of her arms to push it out into the water. It licked up the fabric of her dress and made her entire body shiver, but she persisted, climbing inside and grabbing the paddles.

 

The closer she came to the pirate ship, the more conflicted her feelings turned. Transformed into a mess of "should I/shouldn't I" she waited some time before continuing her work.

 

 

A window was open! How foolish.. But it was so high up. Jo could fall.. But then again, she would fall into water, given her boat wouldn't be beneath her that moment. And that would take a lot of misfortune.

 

Her hands had a firm grip on the wet wood. Luckily it was not simply planks, but ornated with the perfect climbing opportunities. She grabbed a peak, and then another. Here began the hard part, which was finding ground with her feet and continuing out of her own strength.

 

 

With the last ounces of energy, Jo held tight onto the window, supressing a scream with all her willpower. Dragging herself up was excruciating pain, but stoic as she was, she would not surrender until she plunged into the room, exhausted and sweating all over.

 

It was the Captain's cabin.

 

Not a good place to hide.. She had to find something else.

 

Which was when she heard the sound of a big horn. The crew's signal to retreat back to ship.

 

She had to find a hiding place. At least until they were out of the city's grasp.

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

The Captain and his men returned full of glee, displaying their new treasures before confining them into chests and storage rooms.

 

The Doctor did not leave the room, even when he was asked to come aboard.

 

"I will not step up there with even one of my feet, Yates" he snapped when the men came to get them. "Tell your Captain he should have left the presumption that he's able to order me around in Tardis."

 

Liz played asleep. And she guessed right that no one would wake a sleeping lady.

 

"The lady's absolutely exhausted!" the Doctor complained, "What kind of imposition! No, she will most certainly NOT rise! How dare you?"

 

He was delightful to listen to. In another life, he would have made a formidable actor. Or had he been previously? After all, his over-the-top performance did seem to fool Yates, who quickly left them alone.

 

Reliefvd, Liz winked at the Doctor when Yates' steps had faded.

 

"I think my eyes are contemplating mutinee," she yawned and pressed her head against the pillow.

 

"Uh-huh.." was all the Doctor could muster. When he finished his page of notes, he went over to the bed and spread a blanket out over Liz. "I'll just have a look at those few chapters and then I'll be off, alright?"

 

Liz knew he didn't do it to stay efficient. There were rings beneath his eye, too. He must yearn for a pillow to sink his head in as well.

 

She moved over to the side until her shoulders and behind touched the wall. "Stay here," she offered, already half lost to sleep.

 

But then, when the Doctor sank into the slim part of the bed, she spoke again. "Doctor?"

 

"Yes, Liz?"

 

"Do you know something?"

 

"I'm afraid not until you say it."

 

"..I hate it here. I loathe the way they treat me and-"

 

"Not _they_ , Liz. Stewart," he corrected her. "The rest is perfectly fine."

 

Liz rolled her eyes. "Does it matter? I.. I am a respectable figure. There is no reason why I shouldn't be treated as such and it bothers me.. so much."

 

"Oh, Liz.. Look-"

 

"And that gibberish about protection? I didn't need protection on the way here. I don't need it now."

 

The Doctor sighed. His warm breath tingled against her neck. "I know, Liz. You're right."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> took me way too long again to uplaod a new chapter but I did it!! :'D thanks for reading and have a nice day (:


End file.
